Mother's Day Again
by DCKidWing13
Summary: (Yes, I know it's late.) It's Mother's Day again, and this time, we see what Timothy drake is feeling on this special day. This is my first Fanfiction about Tim, so be nice, please.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: I do not own any DC characters. If I did, there'd be quite a few changes in the DC universe. I do not profit from this story. If I did, I'd upload a lot more and a lot sooner, don't you think? This is my ****FIRST**** Fanfiction revolving around Timothy Drake, so go easy on the flaming, okay?**

It's that time again. Mother's Day. I remember when I was little. I was never really into arts and crafts, but for my mother, I'd do anything to make her smile. I would get out my construction paper and my markers, and I'd just draw whatever came to me. Then, with my elementary handwriting, I would tell her how much I loved her, and how much I appreciate her. On the special day, my dad would let her rest while we made her breakfast. We would bring the food to her with our gifts, and tell her "Happy Mother's Day". She would laugh. She would smile. And sometimes…she would even cry. She was happy. I was happy. We were all happy. So happy that it didn't even matter how terrible my card was. She said that it was special because I made it just for her. And she actually cherished the cards I made her. She would keep each one on top of her dresser, and would smile whenever she looked at them. She would smile whenever she looked at me. And her hugs…they were just so full over magic. I could tell that she loved me just from one hug. And each one filled me with so much joy. I wish she'd never let go. Maybe…if she had still held on to me… She was the only person who could make me feel like that. The only one whose hugs could ever make me feel so happy to be alive and with my family. Well, actually, no. There is another. Except those hugs don't make me feel happy to be alive; they make me _want_ to be alive. They heal the pain that has been caused to me. And for some reason, those hugs make me smile. And cry. And love again. It is in these hugs that I truly feel like my mom is still here with me. She's just taken on another form. The form of a psychotic acrobat who loves too hard and too much. The form of my brother. The man who taught me to love again. To smile again. To laugh again.

I'll always remember the first Mother's Day after I became Robin. I was still living with my father, and we were growing more and more distant. There was this big case with Poison Ivy that we'd just finished with the help of Dick. Bruce was at the Batcomputer reviewing the details of the case and such. I, wanting to be a good crime-fighter like Bruce, was going over files, as well, but in the trophy area. Dick was going around trying to get one of us to take a break and eat something. To be honest, I was pretty hungry, but I was afraid that Bruce would think I was weak and couldn't go more than a few hours without food. Funny how stupid you are when you're young. So Dick was eating a sandwich, courtesy of Alfred, and going from here to there, doing whatever he could to help out. That's Dick for you. Energetic. Helpful. …_Hungry_. Everything worth admiring. Everything worth _envying_. But my envy always ceases when I remember that Dick is somewhat jealous of _me_. He never revealed such, but he never had to. I _am_ a detective, after all. I guess if I were Dick, I'd be a tad bit jealous that my mentor had taken on a new partner, as well. I'm just glad that Dick sees me more as a _brother_ than a _threat_ to his and Bruce's relationship.

Anyway, Dick had skipped his merry way over to me—literally—and was leaning over my shoulder. After a couple of seconds, I started getting tense, and I could _feel_ Dick smiling when he noticed. He started humming the catchiest made-up tune ever, which was an easy distraction. As I tried to keep myself from humming along, I made a few mistakes in the notes I was taking. Whenever I did, Dick would immediately jab the paper with his finger and say "Timmyyyyy, you messed uuuup" in that whinny voice that makes him sound like he's eight. Then he'd go right back to humming that tune that I _still_ sometimes get stuck in my head. It was annoying to the brink, and that was _exactly_ why he was doing it. He waited right until I was about to say something to finally stop humming and clasp his hands down on my shoulders. And what he did next caught me so off-guard, I sat frozen for what had to be _minutes_. He kissed my temple. Of course, Dick being Dick, it's not unusual for him to go around kissing people for no reason. And it's amazing he hasn't been locked-up for it—yet. But this wasn't just any one of his friendly "shows of affection". It was a gentle kiss; the kind I remember my mom giving me whenever I had a particularly bad nightmare. "It's okay, Timothy. It's going to be all right." He said it just as my mother had. And at that moment, frozen stiff, I forgot everything around me, and just thought of her.

Eventually, I snapped out of my trance just long enough to look at Dick. He was no longer in that playful mood, but had this sad, sincere look plastered on his face. I must have looked like I was about to cry or something because at that moment, Dick gently pulled me into a warm hug. He softly ran his hand along the back of my head in a petting motion and whispered comforting words into my ear. "It's all right, Tim," he kept saying. "Everything's going to be just fine." I couldn't take it anymore. I cried. I clenched at Dick's clothing and just cried out all the pain I'd been keeping inside. The last time I had cried so hard before that was when my mother died. Ever since, I'd been trying to keep my sadness hidden. Whenever I felt like crying, I would distract myself and tell myself that I needed to be strong. Yet at that moment, in Dick's arms, with him whispering in my ear, trying to comfort me for some unknown reason, I couldn't help but release years of built-up tears and sobbing into him. And when I did, he just held me tighter, only making me cry more. He stopped petting me at some point and grasped my hair. He began rocking slightly; I barely even noticed. I was too wrapped up in my crying to notice much of anything. I cried longer than I had in _years_. Every time I began to quiet down, Dick would start to pet me again, and the loving motion would cause me to unleash a whole new round of sobs. In my entire life, even to this day, I can recall only four times I'd cried so hard for so long. One was when my mother died. Another was right there in the 'Cave with Dick. After what my inner clock told me had been at least twenty minutes, I was in my final stage of whimpering before I finally stopped crying altogether. Even though I've had a similar experience three other times, only when my mother died did I produce as many tears as I did in Dick's arms. Even_ I_ was amazed at how many there were.

I continued to sit there, sniffling. Somehow, I'd gotten from the chair I was taking notes in onto Dick's lap on the floor. And at some point during my wailing, Dick had stopped whispering. I also realized that the 'Cave was now more still, quieter. Dick continued rocking. His shirt was soaked from the neck down. My own shirt was half-drenched from a trail that had come down my neck. My tears had now dried from my face, and I could feel the dry residue pulling at my skin. Even so, I sat still. I doubt even if I_ wanted_ to move that I could have. I became lost in thought, yet I was not thinking. When the feel of something wet settling on my scalp pulled me back to Earth, I noticed that Dick had stopped rocking and was slowly, softly rubbing my back. I felt tired all of a sudden, and my eyes burned the way they do after you've spent half an hour crying. Subconsciously, I grasped Dick's shirt tighter as I continued to sit there, unmoved. I felt another drop of wetness hit my scalp and I realized that the back of my neck was almost covered with this liquid. It must have been falling all the while I was crying. Naturally, being in a cave, I thought it to just be water dripping from stalactites that were hanging from the ceiling above us. But then I recalled this to be a particularly dry part of the 'Cave, which is why I chose it specifically for my note-taking and file-reviewing. So what could it be that kept moistening my scalp? I was just reasoning that maybe I was imagining it or maybe it was just my own tears from Dick's shirt touching my head when I heard a faint sniffle coming from Dick. I turned my head just slightly and looked up. What with my head being buried into Dick's chest, all I could see from that angle was Dick's chin. From it, another drop fell onto my forehead. Dick had been crying…

"Dick?" I said, poking my head out of the comfort of Dick's arms to look at him.

"Hm?" He looked down at me and it was at that moment that I knew he understood _something_ about me that _I_ didn't even fully understand.

"I'm sorry. Whatever I did to upset you, I'm sorry. Just tell me what I did and I promise I'll make it up to you."

He stared at me, looking so confused. After a moment of somewhat studying me, he finally got what I meant. "Ohhh, you think you did something wrong. You didn't do anything to upset me, Tim." He looked at me with an expression that said his unspoken words: "What makes you think you did?"

"But…you were crying. I mean, I don't think I've _ever_ seen _you_ cry before." He kissed my temple softly.

"Are you okay, now, Tim?" Classic Dick. Always worrying so much about someone _else_ that they don't even get the _chance_ to worry about him.

"…Um…" I wiped my face and sat up a bit, Dick still holding me. "Yeah, I think." He gave me a small smile. "Why did you do that?"

"Hug you? Well, because you needed it." He pulled me close again, then sighed. "I _know_ you're feeling down, no matter how hard you try to hide it. Mother's Day is tomorrow—well, _today_, actually. It's inevitable; of course you're going to be a bit depressed. I know I am, and I know that Bruce is. But, Timmy, the fact that the two of us have each other—_regardless_ of how many fights we've had lately—makes this day just a little less painful." We stopped hugging and I sat next to him. "Listen, little buddy. You don't have to hide anything. It's okay to miss your mother. It just shows how much she meant to you, and how much you cared for her." He stroked the back of my head. "I did what I did because I could tell that you were keeping years of emotions locked up inside of you. It's not good to do that. And I'm not saying this because of _health _reasons. I'm telling you this from experience: hiding your feelings for such a long time _will_ lead in your own self-destruction. You'll get angry over the tiniest of things, and you'll say things to the people you care about that you never would have imagined yourself saying. Then gradually, you'll lose sight of yourself. That _almost_ happened to me, and I do not _ever_ want that to happen to you, understand? I know it's hard to talk about, but just letting someone know how you feel can really make a difference. Your life's not over, not yet. So, please, Tim, don't act like it is. Rather than thinking about the people you've lost, why not spend time with the people you still have? That's what I do whenever I miss my parents or some of my friends. I think about the friends I still have, and about the family I'm lucky to be a part of. You don't have to be miserable, Tim. In fact, no, I won't _let_ you be miserable. You can mourn, but you can't for a _second_ be miserable, all right? You deserve happiness, Tim Drake. You really, really do."

"How can you be like that?" My voice was shaky and cracking. "How can you be so…okay on a day like this?"

"Well…because I have Bruce. And it really helps to know that I have someone who knows exactly how I feel."

"But… I don't have any—"

"Yes, you do, Tim. You have your father. Even though you may think that he doesn't understand what you're going through, he really does. He lost his own mother, didn't he? And then he lost his wife. And now, with the situation he's in… Your father understands losing loved ones a _lot _more than you know. It's just that he wants to be strong for you, so he doesn't let his emotions show. But your father does understand, Tim. Plus, you're forgetting that you have me and Bruce." I looked at him. "We may not be related to you, but I think I speak for me _and_ Bruce when I say you've become very close to us. And it's not just because of your job as 'Robin', either. You mean a lot to us, kid. And if you ever want to talk, I'm always available. Oh, and I should tell you that no matter how much you may _think_ so, talking to Bruce about your feelings won't make him think that you're weak. Although, I have to admit that it would be a bit awkward." I most likely had a look on my face that said what I was thinking: 'how did you know?' Dick just smirked. "Hey, I was a little Robin once, too, you know. Back in those days, I thought Bruce knowing I had a _nightmare_ would make him think I wasn't fit to be his partner. I now know that Bruce isn't _that_ picky. And it only took me seven years to believe that." He smiled at me again, and that time, I smiled back.

We—mostly just Dick—continued to talk for a while. I had already admired him and thought highly of Nightwing. But that day in the 'Cave was when _Dick Grayson_ became my hero. He's still my hero today.

After about a half hour, Dick could see that I was exhausted—what from the battle with Ivy and then my little 'episode'. He gave a soft smile before picking me up.

"We outta get you home, don't you think, pal?" I nodded as I tried—and miserably failed—to stifle another yawn. Everything else in the world seemed to just dissolve around me. As Dick carried me across the 'Cave, I was reminded of times when I was younger. I would be watching a movie or something late at night, and then I'd get too tired to even stand. My mother would gentle lift me into her arms and carry me into my room—much like how Dick was carrying me over to the changing area. Suddenly, everything felt like a dream. And then, it all stopped. Dick placed me down, not letting go until he was sure I had my footing.

He handed me my "Tim Drake" clothes and gave me a moment to change. When I'd finished changing, Dick picked me back up. Normally, I would have protested, saying something along the lines of, "I _can_ walk on my own, thank you." But I didn't want to walk; at that moment, I liked being in Dick's arms. And I guess Dick could tell that I wanted to be carried, since any other day he probably would have asked if it was okay. It was silent, and some weird instinct told me that Dick and I were the only ones in the 'Cave—besides the bats.

"Hey," I said as we passed the bat-computer. "Wh…where's Bruce?"

"Hm? Oh, um, he could tell that I wanted to be alone with you for a while. So, I guess he just went upstairs."

"So…you _planned_ all this?" We'd just begun our ascendant of the stairs that lead to Wayne Manor.

"Well…not quite. You know me; I'm not the planning type. I just… I knew that I had to talk to you a bit. I mean, there was no way in hell that was going to leave without making sure you were okay. That's why I agreed to help you guys on this case. To tell you the truth, Bruce actually exaggerated a bit on the details. This was a case you could have handled on your own, really."

"Heh. So you two were in on it together, huh?" We reached the top and Dick turned off the 'Cave lights.

"I guess you could put it that way." He smiled at me. "We were really worried about you, kid." The clock went back to its innocent position as Dick let me down on my feet. He got eye-level with me, seriousness and worry now covering every feature of his face. "Now, be honest with me. Are you absolutely _sure_ that you're okay, Tim?"

I smiled, involuntarily wrapping my arms around his neck. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"All right, twerp." He ruffled my hair. "So, do you want to go home by yourself, or do you want me or Bruce or Alfred to take you?"

I thought about it for a moment. I wanted to still be around Dick, but at the same time, I felt like I needed to go on my own. "I'll be fine," I said with a half-smile.

Dick matched my smile before standing up. "Okay, then." He walked me out the door, and I knew that that was as far as he'd take me. The rest of the trip I had to make alone.

As we were getting ready to depart, I looked at Dick for one final answer. "Hey, Dick?"

"Yeah, Tim?"

"…Why…were you crying?" He stared at me for a moment before giving a half-smile.

"Well…because you remind me of how I was when I was younger. And you remind me of…just how much…I miss my own mother. And, well…I guess you weren't the _only_ one who needed that hug."

I continued to look at him for a while. Sometimes, Dick tends to not answer questions the way he really means to. But even so, I knew _exactly_ what he meant. After that, I left. On the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened. And I couldn't help but silently thank Mary Grayson for giving birth to such an angel.

That was years ago. My father is now dead. And it's Mother's Day again. But I don't hate the world like I used to. I'm not trying to hide my emotions or act like this day has no effect on me. I'm not trying to bury myself in work as a way to distract myself. No, I'm not doing any of those things this Mother's Day. And it's because I know it pains Dick to see me do them. So I won't. Not this year. I owe Dick at _least_ that much. If it wasn't for him, I'd still have all of my emotions bottled up inside. I'd be an atom bomb, just waiting to go off. I would've destroyed myself by now. And I would have never forgiven this wicked, wicked world. Dick Grayson is now my brother. Just knowing that he has my back gives me the strength to keep fighting. I fight for him, for Bruce, for my parents… I fight for all of them. And it was Dick who taught me how. If I die tomorrow, my biggest regret would be never paying Dick back for all he's done for me. I owe him so much. If only he knew what lengths I'd go to for him. The same lengths I would have gone to for my mother. Because Dick is my mother. She's in there _with_ him. And I know that neither of them will _ever_ leave me. Even if they've already gone.

It's Mother's Day again. And the first thing I'm going to do is go to Dick, and just give him a hug. Because we _all_ need one on a day like this. No matter _how_ much we may try to hide it.

**A/N: Sorry this story came some months late. I sort of…forgot about it, I'm sad to admit. And then I'd forgotten how I wanted this story to go, so I had to do a small bit of improvising. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!**

Paste your document here...


End file.
